No habla manual labor.

It's unbelievably nice out today. 80's and sunny and breezy. What did we have to do in all of this great weather? Paint our back deck. Somehow, I got roped into helping with this "outdoor" job. I don't see the fairness. My mental division of labor goes something like this: anything inside the house that doesn't involve complete disgustingness, I'll do. Anything outside of the sticks and bricks, Pauly does. So why was I on the end of a paintbrush all afternoon? ON MY HANDS AND KNEES PAINTING THE SKINNY LITTLE SLATS IN BETWEEN THE DECK . And if any of you reading this are married, you will understand this...arguing with Pauly ALL afternoon about how all of this manual labor should be done. Ew. Not a good day.

Mortality strike.

Today we buried my grandmom. Well, my brothers and I called her "Nanny". Of course it was sad and emotional and all that goes with a funeral, but I think what hit me most was the fact that I could actually see my immediate family aging before my very eyes. I'm getting older, my brothers are getting older, and my parents are getting older. It freaks me out. I officially have no grandparents now. Strange. It's a sense of loss and empty that's in my heart today but also a sense of appreciation for the fact that I realize that importance of my "circle". My family is important to me. And on days like today, days that we lose and bury someone, it's good to stand next to them and know that I can lean on them.

England scoop.

We're back. From England, that is. It was a great place to visit and get to know, but of course I have tons of opinions I need to share with you all. So here we go:

1. Not all British people have jacked-up teeth. It was the first thing I investigated, beeeeelieve me. In fact, it seems they have pretty good dental plans over there and that most of them are indeed flossing.

2. I'm not sure why, but England has a very poor potty situation going on. In many ways. Here's the sitch: if/when you DO have to go, finding a potty is tough. They hide their potties very well. It's almost as if they're embarrassed at the thought of peeing/pooping. I wanted to wear a button that said "Even the Queen poops." But, for me, nope, not enough potties for my general comfort. I mean, I drink tons of water. Tons of water = many trips to the loo. Supply me with facilities puuuleeeze. Then, once you do finally find the coveted "toilets" as they call them, it's an adventure. Now, first let me start with a complement. I love their potty doors. They go all the way to the floor. That's where the U.S. has a major breakdown in potty policy. I don't like the fact that in a public restroom, the door only comes down to about 18" above the floor. Why can't it be a full-sized door??? The U.K. got this part of the "toileting" right. But it stops there. Once you do your business, the U.K. wants to really, really jip you on the t.p. (toilet paper, that is). The dispenser gives it to you in SINGLE SHEETS!! What's that all about??? It takes a good 3 to 4 minutes just to get a sufficient amount of t.p. in hand! Then when you try to flush your "stuff".....OMG. Their plumbing is ridiculous. There's no water pressure, no heavy flush, nothing. A small trickle of water comes down...if you're lucky. So what's that mean to the potty-goer? It means you get the former potty-goer's leftovers, that's what!!!! Not nice. So here's my thing: I need more potties, more paper, and more flush please. Just more of everything....except for my neighbor's leftovers. Less of that and more of the aforementioned and the potty sitch will be golden.

3. You know I've got to talk about the driving dealio. Why drive on the left side? As far as my research tells me, the U.K. is by far in the minority by choosing to drive on the left. And they're so uppity about it. Anytime someone would ask me how I was managing with my driving, if I'd dare say I was having difficulty getting used to driving on the wrong side of the road, those crazy Brits would give me a lathering. Whatevs, I left my mark on a few curbs and our rental car (I simply couldn't judge the left side and curb-surfed way too much for Pauly's liking).

4. That English tea. Yum. Double yum. Now anyone who hangs with me regularly knows that I love tea. Need tea to survive. Hot tea, cold tea. Just tea. I don't do coffee so tea is my caffeine hit to get me through the day. But, wow. The tea I had while in England???? It was like no other tea I've had. I brought 2 boxes home but I already fear the end of those teabags!!! So, yes, I love their tea habits and the respect they give tea. They do tea properly - with little cakes and lots of sugar. Mmmmmmmm. Now how do I get a steady IV drip of their tea going through my veins???

5. Their weather. Let's just say I didn't worry about getting a sunburn. And I'm always the one voted "Most Likely to Look Like the Lobster" whenever the sun is shining anywhere. There was not a good hair day in sight for the entire 7 days I was there. I have no idea how anyone ever looks good in England.

6. The food. Oh, the food. Was it really food? Or was it just white bread and mayonnaise? And little disgusting sausages and brown lumpy gravy? Holy crap...I couldn't eat a thing besides Corn Flakes with whole milk that I diluted with water. It was a really bad food sitch for poor lil' me. England doesn't like semi-vegetarians. At all. In fact, they throw bangers and mash at them and laugh while doing so...


I guess I could tell you more, but I don't want you to think that I disliked my trip. It was fun and new and exciting even though some things were scary and uncomfortable. It would have been more fun if Pauly wasn't working so much, but hey, that's why we were there in the first place. Zeke and I were our own little tourguides and discovered tons of things together. Over "dinner", we'd tell Pauly all about our day and what we had found. One thing I noticed that was enlightening: a 4-year-old is a wonderful travel companion. And even better, it was awesome to introduce him to a totally different country. He definitely noticed that things were different in the U.K., but assimiliated to the changes pretty quickly. He knew to ask for 20 pence for the gumball machines, remembered that the Eye of London was a major ferris-wheel type of landmark in London, and even made a little British friend while playing in a playground one afternoon. Even though she told him he talked funny, they seemed to get along fine and played for a while before saying goodbye. As they were leaving, little Layla told him to "have fun in America." Zeke told her bye and that "he liked her country." That made the trip completely worthwhile to me.

Am I reading her the wrong way???

Is it illegal or, well, just impolite to borrow a lot of books from the library? I mean, I really want to know what the protocol is on this particular matter. Because I seem to be having an issue with my local librarian. Here's the deal: each time we go to the library (which is about once every 10 days or so), we rent at least 10 or 15 books and magazines. Today, I ran over to the library by myself while my mom watched Zeke so that I could return some things and borrow a stack of magazines for a long plane trip we're about to take. Well, as I set the large stack on the counter and said "hi!", Ms. Mean Librarian Lady sighed and scanned my library card - WHICH DIDN'T CONTAIN ANY OVERDUE FEES!!!! She acted as if I were taking her own private stash of reading material from her own home! Is it not my tax dollars that pay for my local library services??? Am I not entitled to borrow as many books as I'd like??? Is there a law on the "books" about some type of limit that I'm not aware of??? Fill me in if you know something I don't. Because as for me, I'm gettin' the vibe that Ms. Mean Librarian Lady is p.o.'d that I have the April edition of Martha Stewart Living on loan. Whatevs.

It's my day....yeah.

Today is Mother's Day 2009. It's been a great day...thanks to Pauly and Zeke. I thought this weekend was going to be one of those weekends where I hit the ground running and never stopped until Sunday night, but thankfully it wasn't. Plans changed and I was able to take advantage of the unbelievable weather today and do something with my boys that I really, really enjoyed. We FINALLY attended the Willowdale Steeplechase. But before that, my day started out on a sour note - literally. Ya' see, recently I've been obsessed with fruit trees. I saw a few in my travels here and there, and I've just really had the urge to try to grow my own fruit. Specifically lemons. I love lemons and lemonade and would love to have fresh lemons growing on my own property. Well, this morning, Pauly surprised me with a gorgeous 5 foot tall lemon tree. Beautiful. I'm excited to nurture the tree until I can pick my first lemon and squeeze it into a tall glass of ice water!

After my lemon tree surprise, we got dressed and met Pauly's family at the King Street Grille in Malvern for breakfast. If you've never been to King Street...my oh my, you must go. And get the Blueberry Muffin French Toast. You'll never be the same. It's heaven on earth. If you go, tell Randy the chef that Pauly sent you - he'll get a chuckle out of that.

After our breakfast (which actually turned into lunch!), we headed straight for the Steeplechase. This was the highlight of my day along with my lemon tree. I guess I'm a simple girl if a few lemons and some racehorses make me see stars, huh??? But really, I couldn't have asked for a better day. The fact that we had time to see the horses racing around the Willowdale grounds made my weekend amazing. Hearing the pounding of the hooves, seeing the jockeys working the horses...it was all so great. The only thing that made it better was the fact that I had my boys with me and the weather was gorgeous.

Thanks guys for a great Mother's Day. And thanks Zeke for the super secret Mother's Day party at school on Friday. Although you're getting to be such a big boy, I think I'll always remember you like this:

You'll always be my little baby boy... happy, funny, smart, and the life of the party. Happy Mother's Day to me. Lucky, lucky me.

A special P.S. out to my mom: I'm not sure how you've done it all these years, but you've managed to keep me in line with all my dramas, plans, successes and failures. Thanks for always listening to the 9:00 a.m. rants and for the Thursday adventures. You're an awesome mama! Happy Mother's Day, Ter Ter!

Potty like a rockstar.

Plumbing. Even the word sounds gross. PLUMB-ing. Plumb. Like, who wants to plumb something? Ew. So, anyway, our upstairs plumbing in our master bath has "crapped the bed" as my brother Chris likes to put it so very eloquently. No more Band-Aids, no more quick fixes...it's time to do a complete overhaul and rip the entire bathroom out and start from scratch.

Ok, folks....cue the music: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

I have lived with this ridiculous powder blue nightmare for seven years. Seven. Count 'em. Seven. Oh my God. I tried paint. I thought of papering. I thought I'd "play up" the baby blue and accent it with artwork at one point. Holy s...., it wasn't happening. I gave up and just simply showered and well, ya' know, in the blue-ness. Eventually, I stopped looking at it and just did my "business". But today? Today I have OPTIONS!!!!!! It's a new day, people. And I'm thinking of tile, shower stalls, sinks, and yep, even toilets!!!! Who knew a toilet would be so darn awesome (other than when you realllllly have to go). So I leave you on this Mother's Day Eve with stars in my eyes and potties in my dreams. Bye, bye ol' blue. I'm heading for better things now.

Gray matter gone.

I lost a few more brain cells today. Why? Because I spent some time at Chuck E. Cheese. Now, don't get me wrong, I have nothing against "The Ratt" as we call it in our circle. But, I feel as though every time I sit in those booths and listen to the deafening buzzing all around me that my head is going to just pop right off like a Pez dispenser. Today I literally could see tiny portions of my brain left on the table as I packed up my gear to go home. That's how horribly sapped I feel whenever I go to Chuck E. Cheese. Sorry Chuckie. No hard feelings. Keep sending me coupons, ok?

Ew.

I've been very short tempered lately. Yesterday was the worst. Anyone who was with me for any amount of time yesterday KNOWS the deal (sorry girls). I was a stressed out maniac. And Chris (my brother) heard a full-on rant and rave on the phone. Sorry about that Chris. I think I just think about things too darn much. Note to self: think less...think less...think lessssssss. Sounds moronic, I know, but seriously, I tie myself up in knots reviewing detail after detail in my brain. Classic case of Virgo-itis. So, I'm going to let stuff go and continue to just be. But before I..am...here's what has me agitated today (if I may):

1. the rain (again)
2. the stupid swine flu and the fact that I have to be concerned about it as I get ready to travel abroad
3. commercial holidays and the ridiculous pressure they put on me to become a juggling act
4. the rain
5. my office area - it's such a mess that it's making my blood pressure rise and my heart palpitate. It will be clean by the end of today if I'm up at 11:59 pm completing the task.


That's it from 3's Companyville. Sorry to be such a downer, but, it just goes with the weather.

We were on vacation? What vacation?

Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawn. Back...from...."vacation". And, yes, I did say vacation very hesitantly. Why? Because we were in Disney. And Disney DOES NOT equal vacation when you're over eighteen. When you have exceeded your teenage years the equation becomes very, very different. It goes something like this:

Disney = plane trip with toddler + 10 lbs. of electronic games to keep toddler busy during plane trip + long lines in airport with cranky toddler who just wants to see Mickey + rushing to catch shuttle buses to hotel + long lines to check into hotel room + soothing a toddler who still just wants to see Mickey + rushing to catch another shuttle to get to park in same clothes you've been wearing since 4 a.m. because there's no time to change + long lines to have your 20 lb. backpack (that you've expertly jammed 35 lbs. of necessities into JUST RIGHT) be ripped apart by security as you enter the park while your toddler jumps up and down because he sees pictures of Mickey who he just wants to see in person + walking for 8 more hours through the park to stand in lines to get on rides that bring you just to the point of vomitus maximus + dining on chicken fingers and french fries that your toddler thinks is gourmet and you think is going to send you straight to your primary care doc for some heavy doses of Lipitor + carrying a camera and video camera around every single moment of every single day because all of this mayhem and madness ultimately and eventually alllll equals one very fine result.....the absolute time of our lives. Thanks Disney. You made Zeke's 4th birthday pretty awesome.